


Pass The Storm With Me

by DisasterMages



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, mercymakerweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterMages/pseuds/DisasterMages
Summary: “Do I frighten you, Angela?” Amelie asks, her eyebrows going up and her head cocking to the side like she expected Angela to run back out into the storm out of fear. Her hand slides across the table though, less than half way, like she was reaching out since Angela hadn’t run yet.





	Pass The Storm With Me

Lightning cracks above her as Angela runs through the forest, the rain drenching her as she shivers. She knows she should’ve left when she’d heard the first rumbles of thunder, but she’d all but fallen into a patch of herbs she could use for medicines and poultices, herbs she’d been looking for for months. But now the skies had darkened and Angela would be lucky if she could see her hand in front of her face. She can’t stop moving, she can’t stop looking for any sort of shelter that would keep her out of the direct path of the storm. 

Pulling her cloak closer around her, Angela tries to shield her eyes against the rain, trying to make out the shape of anything when she sees the shape of a house in between flashes of lightning. Her chest tightens when she sees it, there was no way to tell if it was abandoned or if there might be someone inside, but Angela makes her way towards it, gathering up her skirts off the muddy road to keep them out of her way.

The closer she gets, the more Angela can make out, the more she can see a few rooms faintly lit up against the storm, blue eyes getting wide as she breaks into a full run towards the house. She nearly slips in the mud, but manages to catch herself at the cost of her wrist bending back farther than it should. She’s got just enough time to straighten her clothes and her cloak before she raises her uninjured hand to the door knocker.

She knocks three times, hearing the echoes go through the house as she prays someone is awake inside, someone who would be kind enough to let her pass the storm inside. There’s a silence that seems to stretch on for forever as Angela bounces on her heels at the door, her wrist held to her chest as she’s trying to keep herself warm when the door is pulled open by a woman with ink black hair and piercing gold eyes that bring Angela to a stop.

Angela doesn’t realize that she’d been staring until the woman raises an eyebrow at her, her hand still on the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Angela says breathlessly, bowing her head low, “I’ve been caught in the storm and I was wondering if it was possible to-”

“Come in out of the cold.” The woman says, cutting Angela off and staring into her with those burning golden eyes. “You’ll catch your death if you don’t.” The woman’s tone is colder than the rain, but there’s something in the catch of the light in her mouth that nearly makes Angela stop, and then there’s a hand on her shoulder and she’s being led inside.

Once she’s inside, her eyes adjust to the dim candle light, and she can see the woman more clearly, she can see the shine of her hair and the clothes she’s wearing while her back is turned. It brings a blush to Angela’s cheeks, she can only imagine how she looks after running through the mud as long as she had. 

“I don’t believe I can thank you enough for allowing me to come in.” Angela says, breathless as she lowers the hood of her cloak. Her hair had slipped out of the bun she’d wound it up in and she’s not sure it would’ve had a hope to dry until a moment ago. Her savior is holding a candelabra alight now, her face somehow softer now, her hair still perfect, her eyes still glowing.

“I’m hardly cruel enough to let a woman such as yourself freeze outside.” The woman says, a ghost of a grin on her face before she bows at the waist, her free arm folding underneath her. “You may call me Amelie.”

Angela wants to repeat the name as soon as she hears it, so much that she nearly forgets to curtsy when Amelie straightens herself. “My name is Angela, thank you for letting me in, Amelie.” It’s not much of a curtsy, Angela’s dress is still soaked through and clinging to itself, but she manages and when she looks up again, Amelie is frowning at her quizzically.

“You’re dripping, you’ll have to let me find you something that’s dry.” Angela’s suddenly even more aware of how wet she actually was, taking a step back to look at how much she must’ve been dripping onto Amelie’s floor. There’s an apology on her lips when Amelie takes her by the arm again, this time leading her further into the house without a word, Amelie’s candles leading their way through the dark hallways. 

Amelie may as well not even need the candles though, with the ways she cuts around corners and through rooms, her hand still holding onto Angela’s shoulder to keep her from getting lost until they’re standing in front of a dark door. A flash of lightning from outside illuminates the hallway long enough for Angela to catch Amelie’s eyes bearing into her, and she swallows.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a guest, you’ll have to forgive me for the state of things.” Amelie says quietly, taking her hand off of Angela’s shoulder to pull a ring of keys out of her pocket and unlock the door. She can see what Amelie means when she pushes the door open with a loud creak. The candles show cobwebs and dust, but Angela is still mesmerized by the size of the room alone, and she steps into it slowly, her hand coming to rest on a wooden post.

She can hear the heels of Amelie’s boots clicking across the floor, but she doesn’t pay it any mind as she walks around the room, still shivering slightly. The room was cold, but there was a fireplace that Angela knows she could figure out if she had enough time, it's the framed painting above the fireplace that stops her. It’s nearly too dusty to see clearly, but Angela can just barely make out Amelie’s face in the painting. Amelie’s is the only face Angela has a hope of making out before Amelie is standing behind her, a white dress held in her gloved hands.

“I remember standing for three hours for this painting.” Amelie says, making Angela jump. Her hand goes to Angela’s back now, is if she was worried Angela might fall backwards onto the ground. Amelie’s eyes aren’t glowing as deeply as they were earlier, but Angela still can’t stop herself from staring at them, even as Amelie is staring at herself. “I never did like this one.”

“I think you look beautiful, Amelie.” Angela’s voice is quiet, her eyes still trained on the real Amelie in front of her rather than the one in the painting. Angela holds onto her sprained wrist absentmindedly, her thumb stroking along the bone.

Amelie doesn’t acknowledge what she’s said, and instead, she sets down the candles and pulls Angela’s wrist towards herself and the light from the candles, examining a bruise that was already forming. “I hadn’t realized you were hurt.” Amelie is running her thumb over Angela’s wrist now, and Angela is holding her breath, her mouth open as Amelie steps even closer. “I can assist you if you like.”

In a moment, Angela had already forgotten about the dress held in Amelie’s other arm, too distracted by something she couldn’t find it in herself to name. She nearly doesn’t remember at all until she looks at the white bundle held out to her.

“I’d hate to trouble you more than I already have.” Heat spreads across Angela’s face again and she holds up her hands, though she doesn’t manage to hide the strike of pain that shoots down her arm from Amelie. Taking the dress back into her own hands, Amelie only steps closer, towering over Angela and her eyes not letting go of Angela.

“It doesn’t trouble me to help you.” Amelie’s tone is far from cold when she says it, but there’s something hard underneath it that Angela can’t help but believe, her arguments drying up in her throat.

Angela takes off her cloak first, laying it on the bed regardless of dust or dirt, it was old, it could handle that much. Amelie helps her after that, undoing knots and ties Angela’s wrist wouldn’t allow her to take care of herself, pushing buttons out of their holes one by one, until Angela is dressed down to her stays and little else. Amelie loosens the stays just enough for Angela to get out of them herself and steps back, her eyes locked onto Angela.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, I’ll be back for you when it’s ready.” Amelie bows again as she’s leaving, setting the candelabra down and looking back at Angela before she closes the door behind her. Angela stands and watches the door for a minute longer after Amelie’s left, she half expects her to come back, but when she doesn’t, she turns her attention back to getting dressed.

Angela is standing in front of the dusty mirror trying to fix her hair when Amelie knocks on the door and comes in, glowing golden eyes finding Angela in the darkness easily. Angela’s arms drop back down to her sides slowly, walking towards Amelie like she’s being drawn towards her. “I think you’re the one who looks beautiful.” Amelie says, echoing what Angela had said earlier, her eyes roaming over Angela. If she didn’t know any better Angela would think it was hunger. Looking away, Angela flushes, running a hand through her hair as Amelie takes up the candelabra again.

“Dinner is waiting.” Amelie says, offering her hand for Angela to take, and without thinking, Angela takes it, holding on and letting herself be led to the dining room through dark hallways. Through the entire walk, Amelie had said nothing, but she’d glanced back and smiled whenever she’d managed to catch Angela’s eye.

“I haven’t gotten to cook for someone in a long while, I hope it’s to your liking.” Amelie says as she leads Angela to her seat and pushes her chair in as she sits, her lips nearly brushing against Angela’s ear. She stands behind Angela for another few seconds, her hands on the back of the chair as Angela takes the first few bites before digging in appreciatively.

Satisfied, Amelie lets her hands drag across the back of Angela’s chair as she walks around the table to sit down across from her, one of her hands underneath her chin and the other resting on the table. Angela is half way done when she realizes that Amelie doesn’t have anything in front of her save for a glass of wine. “Amelie,” Angela says, swallowing down a bite and clearing her throat, “aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Angela’s hands are in her lap now, bright eyes staring right back into Amelie’s. Sitting up straighter, Amelie takes a drink from her glass and shakes her head, two fangs glinting in the dim light as she licks a drop or two of the liquid off of her lips. “I don’t think so, Angela.” Amelie starts to drum her fingers on the table and Angela feels her chest tighten a little.

“You’re a vampire, Amelie, aren’t you?” Angela says quietly, unable to break the eye contact between them as she sets both of her hands back up on the table. Something is rising up in Angela’s throat, but it doesn’t have the bitter taste of anger or fear.

“Do I frighten you, Angela?” Amelie asks, her eyebrows going up and her head cocking to the side like she expected Angela to run back out into the storm out of fear. Her hand slides across the table though, less than half way, like she was reaching out since Angela hadn’t run yet.

There’s a long pause between the two of them, Angela’s fingers locking into themselves before she takes one hand and matches the distance of Amelie’s. “No, I don’t think you do.” Angela answers honestly, finally able to look away from Amelie’s eyes, but she still lingers.

Wordlessly, Amelie stands up and walks around the table again, both of her hands coming to rest on Angela’s shoulders now. “You’re finished, aren’t you?” Angela swallows when Amelie asks her that, but she nods her head, reaching up and covering Amelie’s hand with one of her own. Amelie leans forward and tips Angela’s chin up with her other hand, nearly kissing her but not quite. “Shall I take you back to your room, or would you like to see mine?” The tightness in Angela’s chest is replaced by a squeezing that only gets tighter the longer Amelie stands beside her.

“I’d like to see your room, Amelie.” Angela’s voice is beyond tight when she manages the words, her lips moving against Amelie’s. She can feel the cold of Amelie’s hand at her throat as they kiss, her thumb pressing against Angela’s pulse as they both stand up. “You’ll be much warmer sleeping with me.” Amelie promises, still not a breath of distance left between them as she tips Angela’s face up to look at her.


End file.
